Eulogy of Those Who did not deserve Death
by iandyourghost
Summary: Funerals are for the living, not for the dead. The dead do not care what happens to their bodies. 5927 kinda.


Comment, PLZ. I need to know how to improve :D. And yea, Tsuna dies. It's one of THOSE fics. but those fics are FUN TO THE EXTREME. :D ok, yea. Reborn is not mine. Tsuna dieing isn't even mine.

The flowers at his grave are white, the casket a smooth glossy black that swallowed all the light in the church, like a black hole, a gorging beast that wrapped itself like a blanket of glass around-

Well. It didn't matter anymore. It was just a body.

Gokudera sat perched upon the casket, a cigarette in one hand and flowers in the other. Idly, he fingered the engraved letters, the polished wood, black as black as the gloss on his piano. Gokudera sat on the remains of his boss and hero, and he didn't give a flying _fuck _because it wasn't his boss anymore, it was just a dressed up doll in a giant box, because the body, no matter how real it looked _was not him anymore._

The soul had already fled, and the Vongola had no need for an empty corpse.

(What they craved-what they needed- what they _were_ had fled long, long ago.)

This is the making and unmaking of Sawada Tsunayoshi, Tenth Boss of the Vongola.

_"Gokudera." Tsuna says, looking up, "what is it?"_

_"Wedding plans, some bitch from the Fretello family," Gokudera grouses from his seat on the couch. "Reborn's idea."_

_Tsuna smiles, sheepish, "that would be Reborn, wouldn't it?"_

The people begin arriving at 11, never mind the funeral began at 12. They wanted to be polite to the Vongola, after all.

Gokudera is pissed off. How many of these people here actually missed Tsuna? Stone-faced Mafia bosse and tight-lipped politicians, mill around as if they _belonged_ as if they cared as if they had the _right _to miss Tsuna.

Tsuna was too good for these people.

_Tsuna insisted on finishing high school before arriving in Italy._

_He also insisted on leaving Kyoko and Haru behind._

_"They're not gonna be happy, Boss," remarks Yamamoto, scratching his head. " 'specially since we snuck out onto a plane in the middle of the night."_

_Tsuna shakes his head, and smiles. "They'll understand. It's for the best."_

Unusually, it is Hibari who arrives first, striding through crowds that part like waves for him to stand directly in front of the casket. He doesn't say anything, just stands and stares, his face carefully blank.

_How cruel_, some whisper_, doesn't he care? Heartless._

Gokudera reads between the lines, watches the tense line of Hibari's shoulders, the white of his knuckles that grip his tonfan, the way Hibari tilts his head downward, ever so slightly, instead of up, aloof.

Yamamoto arrives close on Hibari. He brushes past Hibari, to lay (what else?) a platter of sushi on the smooth surface of the casket.

"Hey, Tsuna," he says. "I hope you're happy, wherever you are."

_Despite being a Mafia boss, Tsuna still can't shoot a gun._

_"Dame-Tsuna," chided Reborn with a hard smack to the head. "Aim and pull. Must I make it easier?"_

_"I'm sorry!" wailed Tsuna, too preoccupied with running. "Hibari-san, it was an accident!"_

It is sunny outside; sunny and warm, flowers in full bloom, as if the world was rejoicing the death of-

This pisses off Gokudera, too. Just like Tsuna to get offed in the middle of Spring, in the godamn season growth and renewal and love-

He fingers the ring in his pocket, and says nothing, watching the trickle of people still entering the church.

_Tsuna is five years into his reign as Vongola Boss when he finally writes his will._

_Gokudera scans over it, until he stops dead at the sixth paragraph._

_"You don't want your mother to come to your funeral?" he demands._

_Tsuna shakes his head. "It's not her place to worry anymore."_

_Gokudera sighs, but doesn't comment further._

Chrome comes next, materializing out of the day like a wraith, thin legs wrapped up in a black dress, holding a small bunch of porcelain flowers. Yamamoto greets her.

"What's with the glass flowers?" He asks.

Chrome looks up, and in Mukuro's voice says, "they last longer. And they are beautiful when they shatter."

They decide not to have an eulogy. Gokudera is glad because there was nothing to say. Their hero, their boss, his life was dead and that was all there was to it.

_It was Tsuna who decided to move Mukuro's group into the apartment complexes they had reserved for the Vongola._

_"WHY IS THE MIST MAN MOVING IN?" demanded Ryohei, "HE IS CREEPY TO THE EXTREME!"_

_Yamamoto is good-naturedly confused. "Why, Boss?"_

_Tsuna silences Ryohei, who was loudly and brashly excuberating the man's CREEPINESS at the top of his lungs, with a stare, and sighes._

_"He is family, you know. Our family."_

Chrome perches herself on a chair next to the window Gokudera was posted on, glaring out at the garden outside.

"Something wrong?" she asks, her voice soft and hesitant, like how Tsuna's were before he became Boss.

"It's too fucking bright." Gokudera grumbles.

Chrome considers this. "I could make it rain, if you want."

"No." Gokudera decides. "It's fine like this, for Tsuna."

_it's fine because Tsuna would have prefered sunlight._


End file.
